Magic Sometimes Happens Part 39

I was working hard, so very hard.

But I wasn't making any money.

'Why's that, then?' asked Tess.

'Goodness, I don't know.' I shook my head. 'I'm charging people reasonable fees. I have a lot of clients now and most of them pay up on time. But even so I'm barely breaking even.'

'You could ask your dad for some advice?' suggested Tess. 'Your old man, he's an accountant, right?'

'I don't want to ask my dad. He'd only tell my mother I was struggling and then they'd both start bossing me around and knowing best.'

'Why don't you ask f.a.n.n.y, then?'

'She'd tell my mother, too.'

'So that leaves me. Let's have a dekko at your books.'

'Do you know the first thing about books?'

'I've done Dad's for years.'

Tess was brilliant, I have to say just absolutely brilliant.

She knew about dull stuff like cash flow, profit margins, all that if-I-earn-a-pound-but-spend-a-pound-and-five-pence-I'll-be-miserable rubbish.

Or upon reflection perhaps it isn't rubbish?

'Okay,' she told me several hours later. 'This is what you have to do. Stop buying fancy stationery from little local firms. Get it printed by the guys online for half the price. Stop buying flowers to decorate the office. If you want some greenery, get yourself a spider plant like everybody else. I'll bring you one of Mum's. She's got a dozen of the things. She won't miss one.'

'I don't like spider plants, they creep me out. I could get a fern or two, perhaps? A well-behaved Dryopteris might give the place a certain ambience?'

'Ferns aren't tax-deductible,' said Tess. 'So I'm very sorry, but you can't have any ferns. Stop taking people out to lunch, as well. You can't afford it.'

'When you run a business, you have to take your clients out to lunch.'

'No you flipping don't.' Tess glared at me. 'Rosie, sweetheart, there's no way a baby firm like yours can justify a spend of eighty quid on lunch. Your clients, your customers, your punters they're all busy people, yeah? I reckon they'll be happy with a sandwich and a coffee from the local Starbucks. You don't need to take them to the gastropub or tapas place.'

'But f.a.n.n.y has expensive stationery. f.a.n.n.y has fresh flowers in her office. f.a.n.n.y always entertains her clients. When you're trying to build up a business, don't you think it's sensible-'

'-to sit there half the afternoon and nibble baby squid, patatas bravas and stupid little strips of belly pork? To drink a bottle of flipping heck, girl, look at this receipt! What did you order, Chateau Mouton Rothschild '86?'

'How do you know about Chateau Mouton '86?'

'Oh, Ben has three bottles of the stuff. They're an investment, not for drinking. You were saying?'

'I don't like cheap wine. So I won't insult prospective clients by offering them plonk.'

'Who are these clients, then? All members of the aristocracy, the House of Lords?' Tess gave an exaggerated sigh. 'I dare say you skirt around the money stuff, as well. After all, it's vulgar to talk money, isn't it?'

'I can talk money!' I retorted.

'But I bet you have to force yourself. Rosie, honey, you're so bleeding middle cla.s.s it hurts. You're so into doing what is charming and respectable. How many of these t.o.s.s.e.rs you take out to lunch get back to you and give you work?'

'At least two thirds well, give or take.'

'You mean just over half, which isn't good enough, you know. It should be all of them. You spend your time and money on these people. So you want it to be worth your while. You want them to give you their accounts. You're trying to run a business here, for heaven's sake not a drop-in club for losers who have nothing else to do and all day to do it. Listen, Rosie power, water, petrol, software, postage you're not keeping proper records, and you need-'

'Tess, before you tell me what I need, I'll pop across to Starbucks and get us both a latte, shall I?'

'Yeah, and get some chocolate m.u.f.fins, too. We could be here all night.'

PATRICK.

I thought about what Ben had said.

It galled me to admit it, but I knew he was right about me being a romantic. Rosie was the centre of my world. What I wanted most in all this world more than money or consumer goods, success in my profession was to spend my life with Rosie. So I tried to see a way.

My kids I wanted, needed to be with my kids, of course. But I wanted, needed Rosie, too. It would be impossible to choose between them, and I hoped I'd never have to do it.

A few days after I met with Ben, I took a call from Lex. She said she wanted to meet up. We needed to discuss the kids. 'Their shoes and clothes and school, you know?' she added. 'Polly's day care, Joe's computer camp?'

'I'll give you fifteen minutes in the place we met before next Friday afternoon.'

'Fifteen minutes, Patrick is that all your family is worth to you?'

'So how long do you need?'

'I guess fifteen, twenty minutes will be fine. Patrick, I don't quite know how to say this, but-'

'What is it?'

'You're still mad at me?'

'No, Lexie, I'm not mad. But, like we both know, we don't have any future as a couple. So I'm trying to be civilised, which is what you always wanted, right?'

'You're still with that woman?'

'I don't wish to discuss it.'

'Oh okay.' She sighed and then she disconnected. I was surprised to realise I felt nothing. No anger, no regret, no irritation, no desire to hurt or wound or throw a pan of pasta at her head. I'd changed, moved on, and there was no way I could go back to being how I used to be, to feeling how I used to feel.

It shocked me somehow. I felt like I was grieving for somebody who died. I guess that somebody was part of me.

Lex was running late.

But she was never very punctual, so I was expecting that and I had brought my laptop. I got myself a latte, was drinking it and working through my emails when she came in hot and fl.u.s.tered, gasping like she ran a marathon and saying she couldn't find a place to park.

'Sit down, get your breath back.' What was the etiquette for people who were friends and lovers once but weren't friends or lovers any more, although they didn't hate each other, didn't wish each other any harm?

Did we air-kiss, cheek-kiss, shake hands or do nothing?

The seconds ticked on by and we did nothing.

'What would you like?' I asked. 'A cappuccino, brownie, smoothie? Do you want a sandwich, croissant, m.u.f.fin?'

'Just an espresso, please. I need to watch my weight.'

Yeah, you do, I thought. Your thighs have gotten heavy and you've thickened round the waist. You ought to climb some stairs.

But then I felt mean.

I went up to the counter where the dumbest snail of a barista in the universe was serving, so I stood in line a time. When I got back to our table in a quiet corner, Lex was looking worried. She was fussing with a paper napkin and tearing it in shreds. Did she still think I was mad, in spite of what I said?

I wasn't mad at all. I didn't care what Lexie thought, what Lexie did, what Lexie felt or said. She would never jerk my chain again. So talking with my wife was easy, after all.

We discussed the kids, Joe's school and Polly's day care. It appeared that Mr Wonderful was no longer so keen to drag my wife and children all around the world with him. There would be occasional trips abroad. But from now on, Lexie and the kids would spend most of their time in the Twin Cities.

'You were telling me about some conference when we talked a while back?' she continued as she stirred more sweetener in her coffee which I saw she hadn't touched.

'Yeah, it's on thought-to-text, on all the new developments in experimental software. Delegates are coming from all over Europe, Asia, South America, the Middle East.'

'Where is it?'

'Colorado.'

'You'll be busy getting stuff together?'

'I need to do some preparation, yeah. I'm scheduled to give a couple lectures and various presentations. I'm chairing several meetings.'

I expected her to make some smart remark about my work, how she knew it was important, more important than my family, how I cared about my work more than I ever did about my wife and children, how it was the reason we broke up, all stuff I heard before. But I got a shock. 'I'm sure you'll do it very well,' she said.

'It's kind of you to say so. Thank you, Lex.'

'Good luck, although I don't suppose you'll need it.'

'Lex, I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I need to see a student.'

'Okay. It's been good to talk.' She stood up, found her purse. 'Pat, I hope we'll meet from time to time? Just the two of us, I mean, as friends?'

'I hope so, too,' I said and was surprised to find I meant it.

We said goodbye, shook hands. But then she stood on tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. 'Goodbye, Pat,' she said. 'You take care, now.'

'You take care as well.'

'I shall, and listen, Pat if we can both be sensible and calm, we don't need to have a great big fight.'

'Of course we don't,' I said and then I thought: one day when things have settled down, I guess it's possible we might be friends again?

'We're adults,' continued Lex.

'We are.'

'We're parents, too. We love our kids. Whatever we decide to do about our own relationship, we want the best for them.'

'Of course we do. Lex, I have to get back now, but I'll be in touch about the money, schooling, day care, regular access all that stuff. I can't imagine there'll be any problems.'

'I'm so glad it's working out,' said Lex.

'Yeah, so am I.' As I watched her walking out the door, I thought, I loved that woman once. I was so sure our love had died. But she was so sweet today, so reasonable, so generous. She was the Alexis I had loved.

Perhaps a little spark of love remained?

ROSIE.

FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: Cool it!

TO: Rosie Denham SENT: July 26 15.27 Rosie, I've been thinking about us.

It was so great to be with you. But now I'm home again, I realise my life is here in Minnesota with my wife and kids.

Lex and I are going to try again.

It's time for you and me to draw a line.

You take care now.

Pat I had half expected it, of course.

But when the actual email pinged into my box at half past nine that evening, while Tess and I were having a late dinner at my flat, I was so shocked that Tess kept on repeating stay with me, Rosie, darling like they do on Casualty.

Then, not like they do on Casualty, she revived us both with Chardonnay. It was lucky she was there for me, or heaven alone knows what I might have done run mad and torn my garments and my hair, or something equally Victorian and ridiculous?

We must have made a very touching tableau. It was like she was my maid or mother and I was a nineteenth-century virgin whose fiance had been killed in Africa or up the Khyber Pa.s.s. I could have posed for one of those revolting every-picture-tells-a-story sentimental paintings depicting fainting women, weeping children, howling dogs, ent.i.tled Dreadful News.

Two or three days later, I still couldn't believe that Pat had told me it was over, that it was how exactly had he put it time to draw a line. Well, I could believe it. He was safely home again, back in the USA, and it turned out I'd been what I always feared I'd be a temporary diversion, after all.

'I'm not worth it, surely?' he had asked me.

Well, he got that right.

It was the follow-up that really hurt.

FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: Okay?

TO: Rosie Denham SENT: July 30 13.34 Rosie haven't heard from you in days.

Please let me know that you're okay?